The Faded Bouquet
The lamp was cracked. Not broken, just a hairline fracture running from the base to the glass, visible only when the light hit it at a sharp angle. I held it in my palm, feeling the cold iron bite into my skin, and watched the flame gutter. It was the only thing I owned that wasn’t owed to someone else, and now it was defective. Outside the cage, the wind screamed through the Blackwood Shaft, a...
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